


Rapid

by paperrcliip



Series: Wilbur Centric Fics [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream Smp, Family Dynamics, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Its a vent fic, No shipping, Wilbur Soot-centric, prequel to dream smp, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, this is all platonic, yes both those tags exist in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29842737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperrcliip/pseuds/paperrcliip
Summary: Wilbur always hated noise.I wrote this as a vent fic :/
Relationships: None
Series: Wilbur Centric Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2211564
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	Rapid

**Author's Note:**

> This story is not of the actual creators it's the characters they play in the dream smp. This fic is me projecting a lot

**TW: swearing, small mentions of blood/injury, panic attacks, slight paranoia, character death**

**Word count: 7507**

Wilbur had always hated noise.

The squeaks in doors were too loud and the crumpling of a chip bag made in uneasy and panicked. All the sound was unnecessary. It could be panic enduring for some as well.

 _It's okay, stay calm,_ Wilbur thought to himself. He had asked Phil if he could have a snack , he was allowed to. Nothing he was doing was bad or deceitful. No one will get mad.

What if they do though, the little nagging voice in the back of Wilburs head thought. The fox hybrid didn't want to think of that though. It would be easier to ignore the voice. The little constant negativity and anxiety in the back of his head. If he ignored it it would leave him alone, even if just for a little while.

Techno once said that trying to ignore or forget about something made it more constant to think about. It pops up in your head more because you're actively trying not to think about it. Distractions worked best. Food was a good distraction it's why he had asked Philza if he could grab a snack (he never knew if they were going to have dinner soon and he didn't want to make anyone mad by eating and then not being hungry for dinner). That reminded him, Phil told him that humans are relaxed after eating. Being full makes your body sleepy.

Wilbur memorized a short list of foods that calm anxiety. There was salmon but Wilbur hated the texture of it. There was also chamomile because it was a relaxing herb, green tea, yogurt and dark chocolate. Wilbur liked chocolate, it had a bit of caffeine as well which would keep him awake. The chocolate was in the pantry and Wilbur knew since he didn't eat the rest of the dark chocolate it was still there. No one else liked it enough to eat it.

He just needed to stay calm. Everything he was doing was allowed, people had allowed him to do this. He had no need to be quiet he could be as loud as he wanted if he so dearly wished. Tommy could come in and ask him what he was doing and Wilbur would be 100% honest. Techno could come in and question him and Wilbur wouldn't care. Phil could ask what all the noise was about, and Wilbur wouldn't care. Well maybe he would just a little bit. He didn't care that he was allowed too, he hated making too much noise.

It was still noisy though. Too noisy for Wilbur. Silence was sensitive, one wrong move and it shatters like glass. Wilbur loved and hated the silence. It was deafening ironically. It left him alone to his thoughts. Yet he loved the peace it brought. It could be calming or overwhelming, two opposite sides of a spectrum which was simply amazing. Silence could be two things at once. Breaking the silence when it naturally formed seemed like a crime. It could shatter peace with a simple creak or a whisper. Silence was scary like that.

The cupboard squeaked when the brunet opened it and he looked around to check if anyone was disturbed by the noise. It was only open a tad bit, just enough to see to contents inside of it but not enough to grab anything. He cursed internally at that and slowly closed it making sure it did not make another sound. A mental sig of relief, no one had heard or no one had cared. Wilbur walked over to the fridge avoiding the floor boards that creaked.

The fox hybrid memorized which ones creamed so he could easily avoid them. When he had to take walks at 4am because his head hurt and he needed to clear his head he needed a safe path to the door. He always oiled the hinges of the door when they were starting to get squeaky. The possibility of a robber breaking in and Wilbur and his family trying to get out but alerting the robber they were at the door because of a squeak was terrifying. Of corse the downside was if someone broke in through the door they wouldn't know because it was silent.

He opened the silver handle of the door slowly as the fridge illuminated itself. Nothing in it seemed appealing but he didn't want the trip to be for nothing. Banana's where on the counter, he remembered. Slowly closing the fridge door he went to step away, wincing when the floorboard under him creaked with the slight loss of weight. Panic set it. The brunet awkwardly kept his weight on the foot not on the squeaky floor board. He had to do this quietly or it would shatter the calmness of the house.

He stayed still. Not moving a muscle as he tried to figure out what to do. Wilbur was blanking, his brain was numb with panic and his logic wasn't working. Ideas came in sparse and quickly, only grazing his brain and giving him a mere moment to consider it before it floated away and Wilbur had no memory of it.

What should he do? step back on it? Maybe take the foot off quickly. Which option would minimize the amount of noise? Wilbur didn't know what to do, he knew his thought were spiralling and his breathing was speeding up. Hyperventilating would add to the sound, it would make everything worse.

 _Hold your breath,_ an idea came to mind. So he did. He slowly peeled his socked foot from the floorboard and trying not to panic more when it made a slight noise. His foot was off, the noise was gone he could breath again. Something wet fell down his cheek and he brought his hand up to while it away. When had he started crying? why was he even crying. This was a pathetic reason, he could never cry over serious things yet causing noise has this effect on him.

Emotions were fucked that way. Whenever things got so bad he couldn't be bothered to feel anything about the situation until months later. Then minor things occur and it ruins his day and mental health for the next week.

Wilbur wasn't hungry anymore. His shaking hands started to calm down as the brunet took a few deep breaths. He needed to calm down, he was getting worked up over nothing again. How he wishes he could say it's the first time this has happened, yet he couldn't. The panic over making noise happened too often yet no one had noticed, he made sure no one noticed. People would call him stupid for having an anxiety attack over something as little as this. Something so small shouldn't have this much of an effect on people, yet it did.

Wilbur guessed it would affect people differently by how they were raised. Before he had been adopted by Phil, the fox hybrid had stumbled through a nether portal and gotten lost. Noise was bad in the nether, if you made noise and got spotted you were basically dead meat. Piglins and hoglins as well as ghasts came for you, and if you were unlucky enough a wither skeleton may be near by as well. In the nether everything was against you and when you heard noises near you you should be scared. You always needed to be quiet and sneaky and have an escape plan on a moments notice.

The brunet was lucky, his ears picked up on noise very well. That also meant constant anxiety. He had no idea how far he could hear, he couldn't tell if the piglin was far away or just around the corner. Eventually Wilbur had found a hybrid. His name was Technoblade and they protected each other. Then soon after Phil had found them and took them home. Soon after Tommy was added to the family as well. Silence was a good thing, it meant no danger.

He was spiralling again. What helps reduce anxiety? Wilbur vaguely remembered people telling others to drink water. His throat was parched. Maybe water could help. It would perhaps steady his shaking hands and calm his mind. Even if it just slowed the thought down a bit Wilbur would be grateful. He could focus on one thing at a time instead of fleeting thoughts that left to make room for the new. He could take a breath and just think about one thing instead of trying to remember and focus on ten.

Wilbur opened the drawer for the cups slowly and sighed in relief when no noise was made. This drawer was safe. Things were looking up already, it had been a good idea to get water. The glass cup shook in his hand but the brunet tried not to focus on that, water was all he needed. Brain's and body's needed hydration to function properly, Wilbur remembered that from a health guide Phil got him a couple years ago.

At the time Wilbur didn't think it to be useful but Phil seemed happy to have found it for Wilbur so he read it. He read and memorized it to make Phil happy even though it was oh so boring.

Wilbur brought the cup to the tap and turned it on so water was almost barely coming out. It would be too loud otherwise and Wilbur didn't want to freak himself out more than he already had. The glass took a while for it to be half way full but that was all Wilbur needed, just a bit of water to get him back on track. He turned off the tap and brought the cup to his lips. The water was refreshing. It was cold and took his mind off of everything else even if just for a moment. That moment of peace was short lived however.

A crash came from upstairs and normally Wilbur would jump and check it out and everything would be sunshine and rainbows. This was different, he was already anxious and in a bad state of mind. The cup fell and shattered causing Wilbur to jump back in shock. He heard talking from where the crash was. Everything was too loud, he had made too much noise. Noise was danger. Noise was bad.

He had disturbed the silence and now he has to pay the price. Something bad was gonna happen, danger was going to come into the kitchen and kill him. he could imagine the footsteps of a wither skeleton walking towards him, the bones clanking together and the holes were the eyes should have been staring at him as the sword would be plunged though his body. The wither effect would take place and it would be a slow and painful death.

Wilbur had only been withered once and for a very short period of time. The skeleton had barely grazed him and his arm slowly turned pitch black for a couple minutes before returning to normal. It left him sick for the rest of the day but he was fine. He wouldn't be fine if the entire sword was through him.

Or maybe Phil, Techno or Tommy would come and scream at him. First for making too much noise then for freaking out over something so small. Perhaps he would be disowned and have to live outside. He should start packing bags now. Get ready for the rejection, get ready for being kicked out.

Why did it feel so warm in here? Why was his vision blurry, he couldn't focus on anything. It was like he was zoned out, trapped inside his own mind. His lungs felt like there were boulders on them. He couldn't get enough air in. Air was good, air was everywhere so why couldn't his lungs find it. They had one job and they couldn't do it properly. His wrist felt itchy. Make it stop. The itch wouldn't go away, why wouldn't it go away. Maybe he just needed to sit down for a minute. Wilbur sat on the ground, broken glass in front of him yet he hadn't noticed. Glass wasn't his concern. The stupid ice was, it wouldn't stop. The brunet just had to scratch it a little more, a little harder. the was something red in his finger nails. Or was there? His blurry vision, panicked brain and shaking hands didn't make it easy to tell.

Was it blood on his wrist? What caused that? Was it him- not it couldn't be him. Maybe it was the glass or what if there was an intruder. Did the intruder hurt him? The logical part of his brain said no, that there was no intruder but how could he be sure. With how much noise he made he wouldn't be able to tell anyways. It was all his fault. Everything was his fault because he couldn't deal with a little noise.

Someone was talking to him. He should focus on that but the brunet couldn't. It was too much, everything was too much. Everything was moving too fast. It was too rapid. Something was holding his arms. Was this the end? Was this the scene at the beginning of a horror movie where a character dies before they time skip to where the main character lives? How ironic, Wilbur had always though horror movies were stupid.

The characters never knew what to do and always went towards the scary noises. Or they panicked and made too much noise and got caught by whatever was trying to kill them. How foolish, Wilbur had always thought he would survive in a horror movie. Maybe this situation was trying to prove him wrong.

He needed to stop getting side tracked. Someone was talking to him he wasn't imagining it. It was the person holding his wrists. Maybe he should listen, if Wilburs going to be killed he at least wants to know why. He just had to focus. His thought were just so loud. So demanding of attention it was hard to pull himself away from that. Wilbur wanted to so desperately but his thoughts had started overflowing and there was no stopping them anymore.

Wilbur wanted air. He wanted air so badly. Not wanted that was wrong. He needed air. The brunet felt like he could die right now. His body and brain needed the oxygen so why did his lungs refuse it. Fuck the itch was back. Whoever was holding his wrists wouldn't let him scratch it. Honestly the young adult couldn't even if he wanted too his hands were shaking so badly.

The voice was a little clearer now. He tried to focus on that and nothing else, Wilbur tried to drown out the thought. The persons voice sounded as if they were underwater. Or maybe Wilbur was underwater and the other was trying to save him from drowning. His ears were plugged with imaginary water and his eyes were blurred from actual water probably. Or maybe his vision was just going like Techno's. He should consider glasses other than reading glasses. No he needed to stop getting lost in his thoughts. The fox hybrid needed to find this persons voice, maybe they can help pull him out from under the water.

It felt like he was closer to the surface. The persons voice was more distinguishing and he could tell it was someoke he knew. Wilbur recognized it but he couldn't put a name to it yet. It was right on the top of his tongue. Like a scratch that was just barely out of reach.

"Deep breaths Wil. In and out." It was Phil. That made Wilbur was to sink to the bottom of the ocean. Phil is probably mad, he's probably ready to yell at him once Wilbur can comprehend what he's saying. Someone's probably packing his bags right now. No he can't think like that or he'll start drowning again. Wilbur forced myself not too, to avoid the thoughts and force himself towards the surface. Finally after ages, he broke through the surface. His lungs heaved and burned with the lack of oxygen they had been getting but finally some entered. Not at a steady pace, it wasn't graceful like a Disney Princess. It was ugly and awful but he forced the air into his lungs.

"That's it Wil that's it." Phil was here. He wasn't alone, Wilbur wasn't alone. Someone was with him and even if this person kicked him out later at the moment it didn't matter. He wasn't alone and in this exact moment he was temporarily safe. He just needed to stay above the surface and he could breath. Wilbur wouldn't let himself be pushed under again.

His heart pounded, why was it beating so hard? This was worse than when they did the fitness gram pacer test that one time if that was even what it was called. Wilbur didn't care enough to remember. The beating was so loud it rang though Wilbur's ears like bells. He wouldn't be able to distinguish the pounding of his heart and the footsteps of a predator. Was this even his heart, or maybe this was someone waking towards him. Did death's footsteps sound like pounding? No death wouldn't have footsteps it had to have been his heart.

"Phil," Wilbur started slowly, "it's so loud. It's too loud I can't I can't Phil please." His lungs were on fire, he shouldn't have spoken. There wasn't enough oxygen yet. He had already messed something up again. He was going to drown again.

Phil cursed, what could he do to help Wilbur? He was still holding onto the brunets shaking hands making sure he didn't scratch his wrist again. He had started breaking skin by the time Phil had gotten there. He had to get Will out of the kitchen and his panicked state soon. Glass was everywhere and if Wilbur passed out it could be bad.

"Will you're okay. You're okay it's quiet now. Shhh I need you to breath with me." Phil said slowly. He made sure his tone was soft and quiet. The brunet started breathing again. His chest heaved with every exhale and the inhale was short and rigid but he was getting air back in again. Phil wanted to hug Wilbur and shield him from the world but he knew it would make it worse. The taller had just barely recognized him.

Phil wouldn't be helping Wilbur if he just planned to kick him out right? If he was going to send Wilbur off then he would do it now, the logical part of the fox hybrid's brain told him. The panicked part though was saying otherwise. It was a battle of which could be louder, to which neither was winning.

"Phil somethings on my arms. I can't move them." Wilburs voice sounded far away to the both of them. Phil frowned, Wilbur didn't recognize it was just Phil holding them. It was then Phil knew it was good not to hug the other. The brunet wouldn't be able to tell it was Phil.

"It's just me Wil. You were scratching yourself." Phil explained quickly. He needed to answer Wilbur and provide clarity for the situation. He also couldn't go into detail either. There was the perfect in-between to not cause thee other more panic or distress. Wilbur nodded faintly letting Phil know he had heard him. That was good, his voice was getting though to him. Wilbur was hanging on and he was pulling himself out of the panic.

 _Keep speaking_ , Wilbur wanted to scream. His vocal cords couldn't though, they had given up on him when he really needed them. Phil's voice was real. Something he could focus on other than the tornado of thought spinning and screaming for attention in his head. The thought reminded him of a toddler, or a Tommy. They didn't like to be silenced and they didn't like to listen.

Phil's voice kept him grounded and above the imaginary water threatening to drown him. He needed it right now more than ever. It was the one thing constant in his life right now, it was safe and was keeping him afloat. Wilbur needed to stop comparing this situation to water but he couldn't. It made sense to him. Water was logical emotions were not. Emotions came out of nowhere and fucked you over. Water gives life or takes it, emotions were strange and didn't work like that. They came out of nowhere or decided "hey I'm going to be a bitch today!" And all you had to do was accept it and try to get on with you're day.

"Keep," Wilbur finally chocked out, "speaking. Please." His head was too loud but Phil's voice was comforting and silenced his head. So Phil kept speaking, Wilbur couldn't make the words out but he heard it. The words didn't matter, what did matter was the noise. The comforting voice of Phil that could calm all your worries. It could drown out all of the thoughts that constantly demanded Wilbur's immediate attention. Slowly they got quieter, still there still screaming but quiet enough Wilbur could start making out words. He hear mf Techno, closely followed by farm and a word that started with P. Then he heard Tommy followed by beach and picnic.

Were these memories Phil was recounting to Wilbur? The one and only time they had brought Tommy on a picnic was too the beach. It ended up with a hat lost in the ocean, Techno swearing to never wear a sun hat again, and Tommy trying to take a 'pet' seagull into the car before they left. The memory almost brought a smile to Wilburs face. The thoughts fell into a mere whisper in the back of his head. The fox hybrid could deal with that, they were easy to ignore when they weren't screaming at him from all directions.

Soon after Wilbur looked up and could see Phil's face. It was real and Phil was really there it wasn't a trick of his imagination. His vision was slightly blurry but already mostly better and he could recognize his father figure.

"I'm tired. I'm so so tired." Wilbur mumbled. Mentally physically or emotionally no one knew. All three would be the best guess and the brunet knew he meant all three. Phil cut his story short at that and looked at him. To put it nicely, Wilbur looked like a mess. His eyes were tired and droopy yet still held so much anxiety in them as if he was ready for something to round the corner and kill him and Phil. His wrists shook and were splattered in blood and his normally fluffy meat hair was scattered and droopy.

"I know. You gotta stay awake for me Wil." Phil smiled sadly. How he wished he could just let Wilbur sleep his troubles away. But first came fixing his wounds then hydration and maybe nutrition if Phil was lucky. He could live without that though and let Wilbur sleep then eat when he woke up.

Phil didn't know what to do. The couch he could let Wilbur rest on was downstairs luckily. Though the med kit was in the bathroom upstairs and the older didn't want to move the brunet around that much. He also didn't want to leave him alone (the chances of him passing out were high or the possibility he could be triggered into another attack were too great for Phil to consider leaving him alone). Phil grabbed his phone out and quickly texted Techno to bring him a wet clothes and the med kit to the kitchen. He sighed in relief when he was left on read. Soon enough he heard light footsteps and turned around to see the pinkette walking his way.

"Phil someone's coming"

"It's just Techno. You're safe it's okay." Phil quickly assured Wilbur. The piglin hybrid passed Phil the items and walked away quickly and quietly. The blonde mouthed a thank you before he left and Techno just nodded. The last thing the pinkette knew he should do was make too much noise. So he went upstairs to his room, not before telling Tommy about the situation beforehand though.

Phil grabbed the clothe and gently whipped the blood off of the brunets wrists. He looked to see if there was any reaction from the latter but nothing, he just stared blankly but Phil knew a lot was going on inside the young adults head. The bleeding had almost completely stopped which was good. Phil set the clothe aside and grabbed the med kit now. Inside there was antibiotics to put on the wounds before he wrapped them in bandages. He put the med kit to the side and looked back at Wilbur. The boy looked so very tired.

"Wil I'm gonna help you stand okay?" He gave the other a warning and once he got a nod in return, he helped him stand up. Almost all of Wilbur weight was on Phil but he didn't mind. He brought him over to the couch and let him sit down before going back to the kitchen and grabbing a plastic cup of water. The winged man made sure to avoid the glass and made a mental note to sweep it up once Wilbur was asleep.

"Drink this then you can sleep." He gave the cup to Wilbur keeping his hand on it should the brunet drop it. Once it was empty Phil placed it on the coffee table beside the couch and turned back around. Wilbur laid with tired eyes but made no move to go to sleep. He was very tired but sleep could be bad. All the possibilities of the voices coming back or having a nightmare were too large. It seemed childish but it was true.

"Wil go to sleep it's okay. I'm right here." The older assured. He received a nod in response and it only took a few moments before the brunet was asleep. Phil wondered if he had fallen asleep quickly because of mental exhaustion or because of how much sleep he had been getting in the last few weeks. He couldn't worry about that right now though, it wasn't important at the moment. It was all okay, Wilbur was going to be okay. Once he woke up, ate and felt better Phil could ask what had happened. Of Wilbur didn't want to tell him he would respect that but he hoped he would do he could help the young adult.

The brunets dreams were strange. At first it was nothing, just pure blissful rest. Nothing but darkness as his mind rested itself to recover from the particularly eventful day. Then his brain decided to go back into a memory, one Wilbur would rather not relive. It was strange how people could remember things in their dreams with such vivid detail. It was ethereal if it was a good memory. Terrifying if it was not. It was like you were back in that memory except you knew what was going to happen next and you could do nothing to stop it, and somehow that made everything worse.

The memory started off with younger Wilbur in the nether. there was a crimson forest surrounding him yet the nether was strangely peaceful that day. He couldn't hear any hoglins or Piglins so Wilbur knew this wasn't when he met Technoblade. What memory could it be though? Or perhaps he was wrong and this was a random dream he would forget as soon as he woke up. His dream self walked around the forest until he found netherack. The fox hybrid knew exactly what memory this was now.

_A fortress was near by and fortresses had food. He had to go in. Villagers in the overworked spoke of how they were dangerous but Wilbur was tough, he could handle it. The chests sometimes had bread or other foods and Wilbur didn't think he could find anymore pork chop from previously dead hoglins. The chances were too low but the fortress now gave him another option. The young boy went in though an open window on the ground floor and looked for any mobs before continuing down the long dark hallways. The nether was eerily peaceful today and the brunet didn't like it._

_He didn't dwell on it as the lower his hunger got the less energy he would have. Right as he made another left turn a chest stared right back at him. Not trying to be sneaky or quiet he ran towards the chest and swung it open. Today was his lucky day, there was 10 pieces of bread which is so much more than he could have hoped for. There was also a gold nugget which he stored in his pocket. It could distract piglins for a while if he was in trouble. He smiled and grinned for the first time since he had been lost in this hell of a place. Everything was looking up and this was only one chest out of who knows how many._

_Wilbur closed the chest gently and continued farther into the fortress. Normally he wouldn't push his luck but he had a feeling today would be good. When there was no more loot on the ground floor (besides disgusting nether wart)he walked up the stairs. Only a few meters down the hallway he would find another chest with nothing but a golden hoe (to which a few months later he would give as a present to Techno). The brunet sighed and closed the chest._

_Footsteps right behind him. Wilbur swung the golden hoe behind him to block an oncoming attack from a skeleton. Not a normal skeleton, this one was black as night, tall as a giant and held a sword instead of a bow. The sword grazed his arms bur Wilbur wasn't worried about that. There was enough adrenaline for him to push the mob away with the hoe and jump out of a nearby window onto the top of a tree. The skeleton stared at him for a moment before walking away. It was horrifying, there was no soul it was just the undead. There was something different about wither skeletons though, there was something ill to them that made them stand out from other mobs._

_Why was his arms turning black? Wilbur felt dizzy, at first he thought it was just an adrenalin crash but no. The spot the skeleton cut was turning black and he felt sick. He was going to die wasn't he? It was so painful. He wanted to cut off his arm if it made the feeling stop. It was the longest 2 minutes of Wilburs life. The black soot faded only leaving a dark scar that would have permanent withered skin over it. The brunet laid in the leaves of the red tree for the rest of what he thought was a day. Nether time was strange because it didn't have night or day. In the end it was worth it. The bread and nugget was worth the trauma. It didn't matter for the next few years every time he closed his eyes he could see the holes of a wither skeleton staring at him. How it lost interest once he was away. I one strike it could have killed him or left him to suffer the effects of the withering._

Wilbur opened is eyes. That memory hadn't been seen in Wilbur's dreams in a long time. He wasn't in the nether anymore. It didn't smell like ash and smoke. Wherever he was smelt like cinnamon and was cooler than the nether. It was okay he wasn't in danger. That changed though as he heard the fire place crackled as a small piece of wood broke off and fell to the bottom. The brunet sat up looking around for anything hostile and when nothing was found he relaxed only slightly.

The young adult stood up going to the kitchen. The floor was no longer covered in glass from the cup earlier. Was it early or was it yesterday now, Wilbur didn't know how long he had slept. Why had he come here again? Water perhaps but he didn't know where the plastic cups were and a repeat of last time would be horrendous.

"You good there Wilbur?" He jumped and turned around to look at the speaker. Both of his brothers were in the entrance. Tommy had spoken quietly which was out of character for the young boy so Wilbur assumed they at least vaguely knew what had happened.

"Mhm." Techno didn't look convinced.

"You're hands are shaking. Tommy go get Phil. Wilbur we're going back to the couch." The pinkette spoke up. Tommy nodded before running up the stairs. Wilbur wondered how he could do that so effortlessly, maybe he was just getting older though. Tommy still had very young knees after all. The piglin hybrid tapped him on the shoulder once the brunet started zoning out. The younger (by two minutes mind you) rolled his eyes before following Techno to the couch.

Maybe sitting down is a good idea after all Wilbur thought. The walk to the couch seemed long yet so painfully fast he had a headache by the time him and Techno sat down. Wilbur put his head in his hands and closed is eyes. That seemed to help when he got headaches. Techno, the ever observant person in the family quickly filled up the plastic cup that was on the coffee table and handed it to the fox hybrid. Wilbur nodded in thanks and downed the entire cup in a matter of seconds. His present headache started fading into a dull ache in the back of his head.

Wilbur's ears perked up as he heard footsteps on the stairs. One appeared to be running and skipping steps while the other was slower and took them one at a time. Tommy appeared in the living room first out of breath as he collapsed in the middle of the carpeted floor. The blonde child loved to be dramatic. Next came Phil as he strolled in calmly. The older stared at Wilbur and he didn't need to say anything for the brunet to know what he was going to say. He nodded and at Phil and his father figure nodded back sitting down in the chair near the couch.

"I never liked noise much," Wilbur started off, "Unnecessary not like speaking you know? Anxiety decided to be a mother fucker which didn't help. I just got worked up kinda and then something fell I don't know it just set me off I couldn't focus." The rest of his family listened and stayed patient when Wilbur paused. Explaining what you had been feeling was peculiar. It was trying to find the right words to match how you felt in a single moment that had passed already.

Finicky. Wilbur thought that word best described it. Like pulling out Jenga blocks from a tower, trying to find which one to pull out or speak about first. If you pulled the wrong one everything collapsed.

"And then that little voice of negativity that's always there. Like what's it fucking called, intrusive thoughts! They got so loud I couldn't hear anything else and I'm shit at exposing emotions I know." Wilbur rushed to finished off awkwardly. Everyone around him stayed silent. That was the scariest part, their reactions. They could call him stupid and the chances of being kicked out were low but not zero.

 _Were they low?_ Fuck that voice of negativity. That small thought made his anxiety sky rocket. The brunet shifted uncomfortably on the couch looking anywhere but anyone's eyes. Eyes were windows to the soul. That quote was so common yet Wilbur had no idea who had originally said it or where it had come from. It was true though, you could see emotion just through someone's eyes and Wilbur didn't like that. Soneone could see how uncertain he was or he could see what they were thinking which he didn't want either. Wether they were disappointed, angry or another emotion he couldn't place he didn't want to know until it happened.

"I'm sorry." Wilbur looked up at the gremlin child. He had no idea who was going to speak first or what they were going to say but if Wilbur had any guess it wouldn't have been that. Tommy saw the questioning look Wilbur shot him and elaborated quickly.

"I knocked something over. It's what made the noise and made everything bad." Tommy sounded so sincere and small which was out of character for him. Wilbur didn't want to make Tommy feel guilty, everyone knocked things over. Simple mistake. It had just been unfortunate timing. Like a chain reaction, it starts small and gets bigger.

"No no no Tommy no it wasn't your fault," Wilbur was quick to assure, "Everyone makes mistakes you didn't know anything would come of it. If it's anyone's fault it's mine." The rest were fast to deny all of this.

"LISTEN!' Phil yelled, "It's no ones fault. We can't control how we feel and there's no one to blame." Everyone agreed while Wilbur stayed silent. It was still his stupid emotions. He had wrecked the entire day for everyone. He wanted so badly to believe Phil but it was so difficult. If he could listen to Phil for once in his life then maybe he wouldn't feel the awful guilt that it was his fault.

"Wilbur." The male in question looked up at Phil finally.

"It is not your fault." The brunet nodded but everyone could see he didn't believe it. Wilbur felt arms wrapped around him and he turned his head to see his little brother. He wrapped his arms back around Tommy and melted into the hug. It was so comforting and loving Wilbur wanted to cry of joy. Hugs were under appreciated.

"Wil tell me it's not your fault." Damn you Technoblade, Wilbur thought. So now he should lie out loud. To his family non the less, could he really do it? The brunet didn't want to lie to their faces. They helped him and didn't throw him to the streets, they gave him all the bare necessities to live as well as care and love. This family didn't deserve to be lied too.

"It's not my fault." He may have been lying to himself but the proud looks on his families faces was worth it. The small voice in the back of his head may have disagreed though Wilbur didn't care. His family knew he thought he was lying but they didn't care. It was enough he had said it. This single moment would be on Wilbur treasured for infinity.

**(I could have ended it there but wheres the fun in that)**

_It is your fault,_ the little voice was still here all these years later. Louder than ever and fully taking control. They were the new Wilbur that everyone hated and that everyone feared. No matter what Wilbur did they were always there in the back of his head.

For once if was right though. The voice wasn't lying and Wilbur didn't care. It was all his fault! He was proud of it being his fault. A little part of him hated himself for that. The voice of reason, Wilbur assumed. Reason was beyond his comprehension now. In war reason was futile and only ended up hurting everyone more. The fox hybrid learned that the hard way.

Someone had to make the tough call, someone had to take all the blame and Wilbur chose himself for that. He couldn't bestow the fate of self hatred with everyone else hating you as well onto anyone else. His son, his little brother, his friend, no one else deserved to bear that pain besides him.

Sometimes he wished it was all in the good of his own heart. He knew that wasn't the case though. It was mostly his own mind thinking this was right and had to be done no matter how many people it hurt. No matter how much it hurt him. Once his long coat trailed across the uneven rocky flooring for what would be over the 20th time he knew for sure this wasn't just to help others. He needed to be free of this burden that he had created and put on everyone's shoulders. All of the conflict was Wilbur's fault he knew that, this next bit would be his fault. It would be his last fault though, never again would he make a mistake after today. Never again would be bear the guilt of his mistakes or the worry of making another. Because he could be free after this.

He hadn't expected Phil to find him but that was only slightly inconveniencing. It didn't matter. Even when the man who had raided him tried to reason with him nothing mattered anymore. Couldn't Phil see he was beyond reason? Why couldn't he just give up on Wilbur like he had on himself so long ago. Like many others have already. Why did Phil have so much hope he could come back to the good person he used to be, if he was ever a good person.

Hope was a mistake. Look where it had gotten everyone. People were happy before Wilbur decided to fuck things up and give false hope. Hope only let everyone down and the brunet needed everyone on the dream smp to understand that, no matter how much it took. It didn't matter how many people hated him after this took place. So many hated and even feared him as soon as he got exiled to that ravine. This was just solidifying that they should hav feared him long before.

Fear was useful. It got people to stay away and take a step back. Wilbur liked using fear because it pushed people away so when he ultimately disappointed or hurt them, it didn't hurt as much. He still cared, he just chose not to show it.

The button called to him and he was stuck in a trance every time he entered that room. This time though, was the time it was pressed. The wood felt cold and damp beneath his hand. It was humid in this room though Wilbur didn't acknowledge it, or maybe he did but his brain refused to recognize and care.

 _It was never meant to be,_ were the words Eret used when they betrayed him. She had been cruel with that but Wilbur decided to mutter his words back as he pressed down on the button. It made a satisfying click and he turned to look at Phil. The face of horror was painted on. Hope diminished in a second from the mans face. The stone behind him blew up and L'Manberg was no more.

It was all Wilbur fault and he was proud. His unfinished symphony was forever unfinished and he loved that. A small part of the old Wilbur stuck with him and felt saddened by the loss of his greatest creation. His ill brain though was satisfied with his work.

And so he begged his father figure to kill him. To end his suffering. Wilbur didn't know who was talking. The old one or the slightly psychotic one. He assumed it was a mixture of both. One wanting to die because his business with the dream smp was done. The other because he couldn't live with what he had done. All the wrong outweighed the right in Wilbur's opinion. How did the music lover turn into this was a question everyone would ask for years. Wilbur didn't quite know himself either.

Philza finally did it though. He plunged the sword through his sons stomach and held him as he died. The outside was so loud, people screaming and shouting it was too much for Wilbur.

"Keep," Wilbur finally chocked out, "speaking. Please." His fathers voice could drown out everything else just like it had years ago. Phil kept speaking, he spoke to his son about happy memories until he took his final breath and was at peace.

Death was merciful for Wilbur. It was better than war after war. Betrayals and nothing but hurt had come from this country. But it was gone now so Wilbur could rest. The crushing weight of the world was lifted off his shoulders for once in his life. He could finally sleep good, so he did. He closed his eyes and listened to Phil's comforting voice for the last time until he could no longer hear it.

Maybe if Phil helped Wilbur before, years ago from when we had first gotten adopted then maybe all of this could have been prevented. He would have been able to deal with noise better, L'Manberg wouldn't exist and no one would be dead. Phil wouldn't have had to kill his son.

Wilbur always hated noise.


End file.
